Poetry
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Dear Hip Hop…
Who Willie Lynched your mentality? Who put you under a spell? Why you let them teleport you back to slavery? They could have at least made it look good didn’t have to hang you on the block in your own hood from your own trees could have bridged the gap between the souls you “sold”… Continue reading
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We Trust
Born into the ticking clock of innocence a hurrying forth of second hands to match the inhale and exhale of lung we sing truth against the fragile voice of newness and taste of the refreshing sound of belief Trust it is the automatic gift life births us with against the cold relentless winds of the… Continue reading
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I Wonder
I wonder what would happen if I threw my pen into yesterday let it scribble up the past and teleport those memories to the edge of my fingertips If I splashed this page with infinity so that you remember forever where you came from. Or what if I just thought about it wirelessly sent messages… Continue reading
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Mama Put a Curse on Me, by Stella May
Mama put a curse on me When she gave me that name Attaching history to my skin When she knew it had stains on it Though her eyes were green She acted like her skin was brown And teleported her daughter back to slavery What kind of name is Stella anyway? It don’t hardly go… Continue reading
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Those Who Love
It’s their presence alone that lifts the floor and commands the clouds to unclench their fist cause love wraps its garment around their bodies like insane prisoners to compassion confined and restricted to the affection that binds them stitched and knitted like a fresh garment, like fresh skin to the beautiful body of genuine call… Continue reading
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This Hair Will Not Apologize
You can reason all the reasons Why I embraced the nap Call it kinky crap like kitchen naps Cause it no longer snaps, crackles, and pops There are no more cracking chemicals back there But Kings fight private battles here There are wars taking place here There is strength here There is healing here water… Continue reading
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Her Song
Her fingers girdle themselves around the microphone like blessings wrapped in silk prepared to sing poetic melodies in front an audience too deaf to hear the angels playing on the strings of her vocal cords to witness the flapping of wings against their skin too blind to see the messages dancing on her collar bone… Continue reading
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